


E lucevan le stelle

by wreathed



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ficlet, Italy, M/M, Operas, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: Hannibal and Will journey from Venice to the Arena di Verona festival.





	E lucevan le stelle

They settle in Venice, where a basement can’t be built without drawing a flood.

*

One scorching hot early evening in late summer, they take Hannibal’s handsome wooden boat to a parking garage on the coast of the mainland. Hannibal lets Will take the wheel. For a wild moment, Will imagines a mutiny: taking the small vessel and trying to pilot it on and on, further and further out into the ocean. Instead, he follows Hannibal’s directions, and enjoys the feeling of the wind in his hair as the sun continues to blaze down on them.

He is not aware of their final destination, but a gentle sense of social foreboding pervades from the fact that they are dressed formally, their suit jackets in garment bags in the back of the boat. Away from the sartorial demands of wherever they’re headed, it’s so warm that Hannibal has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Will feels breathless at the sight: it recalls Hannibal’s saving of the last victim of Silvestri, back when Hannibal and Will were new to each other; it felt long ago.

They disembark, Hannibal’s hand momentarily in his, and Hannibal unlocks the garage to reveal a pristine Bentley. Hannibal drives them for about an hour: most of the way on the autostrade, then through difficult traffic to get as close as possible to the centre of the place they have arrived in.

“Verona,” Hannibal says. They don their stifling jackets and join the crowds walking down the cobbled streets towards a large piazza. Soon, the self-evidently ancient walls of a Roman amphitheatre have loomed into view. 

“Do they still do gladiator fights?” Will asks, unable to keep himself entirely from smiling. “Like an Italian Medieval Times?”

Hannibal takes a long breath in through his nose, but nevertheless takes Will’s arm. “Excluding wartime, opera has been performed here every summer since 1913.”

Will had thought they had been not quite well-dressed enough for the opera, but whether it was because of the heat or the exterior location, the dress code was somewhat relaxed. They step through stone arches and take seats near the front, but Will can see that the crowds already seated on the steps set against the walls – the cheap seats, once the seats for Roman spectators of chariot races and competitive combat – look like tourists and are dressed in casual clothes. Sitting there wouldn’t have been something Hannibal had even considered. Will wonders of who he is, and what degree he has been willingly and unwillingly changed.

The lavish performance begins at dusk, and Will lets it happen in front of him.

*

Will spent as much time watching Hannibal’s reaction to the opera as the opera itself, and saw how Hannibal had shed a tear towards the climax of the impassioned performance. The end comes after midnight, and they leave with the tide of the chattering crowd, Will concentrating on the solid feeling of Hannibal next to him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you cared for the plastic chairs,” Will says lightly once they’d left the amphitheatre and started the walk back. “It’s incredible, unique, but it’s not exactly La Fenice.”

“I do not especially care for them,” Hannibal admits. “I thought you might have a greater appreciation in the outdoor air. Only the other people seated in our area to wall you in – at least there is no ceiling to contend with as well.”

“Oh,” Will says, taken aback as they walk, fine shoes tapping along the cobbles. “I did prefer it. I looked up: instead of frescos, the same sky we have always lived under.”

“A shame that the lights of the stage and the city were too bright for you to see the stars.”

“Yes,” Will says. “But I knew they were above us all the same.” 

“Would you have chosen to come here?” Hannibal asks. They are almost back at the car.

“I find that you encourage in me passive devotion,” Will replies, and Hannibal looks down at him in barely-hidden pleasure. “There have been many things in my life I did not choose, but some of them have served me well. And I am content with all of my recent choices.”

He puts his arm around Hannibal’s waist, and Hannibal makes no motion to move away. 

“I do not think you would let me leave if I tried to,” Will says quietly. “But if I do not want to leave, then I cannot be your prisoner.”

“I have kept to your imposed restrictions,” Hannibal replies, as he unlocks the car with the press of a button. “And waited for your willing embrace. I am devoted to you.”

“You don’t need to seduce me,” Will reminds him, and faces him eye-to-eye in a breathless almost-kiss. He sees Hannibal’s eyes shutter closed, and feels his own heart hammer. “Take me home,” Will says, and together they go.


End file.
